


Forbidden Fruit

by orphan_account



Category: The Dark Crystal (1982)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 21:38:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1320094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Skeksis love story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place somewhere within the last hundred years before the start of the movie. The terms and details I use are a mixture from the movie and from the novelization, so if something doesn't quite fit the movie, it's probably from the book.
> 
> Also, I know the Skeksis are genderless according to the book, but it also refers to them as "he," so I'm categorizing this as m/m slash.

The slaves were late again.  The Ornamentalist skekEkt sighed impatiently and tapped his talons against the side of the large carven stone basin in which he bathed.  They _knew_ he was to have hot water brought to him every evening when the greatest sun set; after all, he'd been following the same routine for more trine than he could count.  And yet recently, they'd been late with his bath more often than not.

"It must be the Slave-Master's doing," skekEkt muttered in his ear-splittingly high pitched voice as he folded his arms across his sunken chest.  "Probably has them off on some trivial errand instead."

He was just about to stalk off in search of the Slave-Master to lodge a complaint, when a feeble knock sounded on the heavy door to his bedchamber.

"Come in!" skekEkt snarled in the common language, a coarser vernacular than what he used with the other Skeksis or when talking to himself.  "Hurry up with water-- late!"

The group of four slaves slowly pushed open the door, then trudged in with a large cauldron of almost-boiling water among them.  SkekEkt watched with satisfaction as they poured the hot water into his basin, then added an exact amount of cooler water from a tap set into the wall.  _If we only had some way to heat it before it comes out of the wall, I wouldn't have to go through with this,_ he thought as the slaves-- who had long since learned the price of leaving the water too hot or too cold for skekEkt's bath-- tested and retested the basin's contents.  He was sure that skekTek could have figured out some kind of internal heater for the water if he wanted to, but apparently the Scientist had other priorities.

Finally the slaves finished with their task and slunk wordlessly out of the room.  SkekEkt dipped a long, bony finger into the water and found it perfect.  As soon as the slaves were gone, he bolted his door-- not that anyone had ever even tried to disturb his nightly ritual-- and began to undress.

It was the start of a long process of grooming, one which would take all of the several hours between the great sun's setting and skekEkt's bedtime.  If other Skeksis besides the Emperor had been allowed to drink the viliya of the slaves, skekEkt might not have needed to spend so much time on his appearance.  However, without the youth-replenishing life-force of the Podlings, he was forced to rely on more conventional means in order to remain the most beautiful of the Skeksis.

At least being better looking than the others wasn't particularly hard. . . .   He doubted some of them even bothered to bathe.  "Especially skekAyuk," skekEkt growled squeakily as he stripped off his elegant fingerless gloves made of crushed crimson velvet and black lace.  "Slovenly fool."

He tried to force thoughts of the Gourmand from his mind by concentrating on the task ahead of him instead.  SkekEkt ceremoniously removed each of the several layers of clothing he wore, folding every garment carefully and laying it on its designated shelf in his armoire.  When he finally reached the layer closest to his greyish-blue skin, he scowled down at it.  It was almost worn out after many trine of service; the fabric of the cream-colored robe had actually become so thin in some places, he could see his skin through it. 

_I must finish the replacement soon_ , he thought as he pulled off the undergarment and laid it aside to put back on after his bath.  _It won't survive being washed this week._

It took less time to remove the jewelry skekEkt wore-- today only a few chains and a choker about his thin neck, and dangly baubles that served as earrings-- then he was finally ready to bathe.  He stepped over the edge of the basin with each bent leg, then carefully lifted his tail in as well before he lowered himself into the deliciously hot water.

SkekEkt wiped down his wrinkled skin with a damp wash cloth and one of the bars of fragrant soap he made by rendering leftover fat from the kitchen.  (The soap was a lot less popular with the other Skeksis than skekEkt would have wished.)  After the perfunctory cleaning, he turned his attention to more important matters-- in particular, his hair.

He untied the ribbon that kept his bright red hair pulled up over his head, then leaned forward to dip his hair in the water.  It was naturally auburn, but had faded from its original rich tones to a much more subdued shade as skekEkt aged.  Now he enhanced the color with vegetable dyes that made it a vibrant red, but which required reapplying every couple of weeks.  He lifted his dripping head from the water and studied the locks that fell over his eyes.  It looked as if the color would hold out a few more days; skekEkt nodded in satisfaction and proceeded to wash his damp hair with the soap.

After he had finished, skekEkt reached into a bowl resting on the edge of the basin and picked up a capsule between his talons.  While he broke the capsule open, oil dripped from it into the water, intended to moisturize his aging skin.  He agitated the water with one hand, then looked down at its surface as it settled.  The oil floated on top in tiny, glistening clumps like those in the soup skekAyuk had prepared for dinner that evening.

"Ooog!" skekEkt squealed in frustration.  Apparently everything was conspiring to remind him of the Gourmand and their fight earlier that day.  The cause of the argument had been trivial enough to all but skekEkt; skekAyuk had, while eating a disgusting snack of a leg of something or other, bumped into skekEkt and gotten gravy on his high, ornamental collar.  Most Skeksis wouldn't have cared, but to skekEkt this was an unpardonable offense.  The resulting screaming match brought several of the others running to watch the excitement.  SkekAyuk, on being called a graceless, indiscriminate idiot had shaken the leg at the Ornamentalist in fury, leading to more splattering of gravy on skekEkt's clothes.

The fight might have degenerated into a physical brawl-- skekAyuk had strength and bulk over skekEkt, but the Ornamentalist had a mean set of talons-- had the Emperor not limped in and complained that the noise was interrupting his afternoon nap.  That shut them up and produced much apology and bowing; the Emperor had not been in the best of health of late, and as a result his temper was none too good.

SkekEkt had stormed off to his room to clean up the damage and had refused to so much as look at skekAyuk when they reconvened at dinner.  Skeksis rarely said they were sorry, except of course to the Emperor, so he didn't expect any contrition from skekAyuk, but he was hoping from some sign that he was upset.  However, when he sneaked a sideways glance at the Gourmand, who sat one chair away from him at the dining table, skekAyuk seemed happily absorbed in his food.  SkekEkt squeaked indignantly and returned to his own meal with renewed sullenness.

Now, as he slowly bathed his skin in the oily water, skekEkt regretted the whole incident.  The gravy had washed right out with a bit of spot cleaning, so there was no damage done in that regard… only in regard to the Ornamentalist's feelings.  SkekAyuk was the nearest thing he had to a friend; while the two formed a faction with the Chamberlain skekSil and the Emperor, skekEkt was somehow closest to the Gourmand.  They had never spoken harshly to each other as frequently as the others did, and despite their drastic differences in taste regarding personal hygiene, they did enjoy each other's company.

_I don't **need** his company,_ skekEkt tried to tell himself.  _I can just as well talk to skekSil if I get bored.  He's much more intelligent, with **much** better taste._   The thought wasn't very comforting, for despite their alliance he cared nothing for skekSil.  Had he argued with the Chamberlain, he wouldn't have given the matter a second thought.  But skekAyuk. . . .

SkekEkt tried a different tack.  _He doesn't even care,_ he silently asserted while he picked up a piece of rough, porous stone and began to scrub at the skin on his heels to soften it.  _His only concern is his food._   And that really was how it should be.  Skeksis shouldn't care about each other; they shouldn't have. . . friends.

The Ornamentalist finally finished his cleansing ritual, and he stood, causing the water to cascade off his awkward, angular body in small waterfalls.  He pulled out the basin's stopper to allow the water to drain into the castle's sewage system, then dried himself carefully with a towel made of the softest, most absorbent material he had available.  He redressed in his worn undergarments before beginning to comb his hair in front of the huge, ornate mirror that hung on one wall of his chamber.

As was the case every evening, he was unhappy with what he saw in the mirror.  SkekEkt was pleased with his appearance when he was dressed in multiple layers of elegant clothing, jewelry, and makeup. . . but without all that, he was just an aging Skeksis like the rest of them. 

_That will change after the conjunction,_ he reminded himself as he twisted locks of his hair around metal rollers and pinned them in place.  _When we have that power from the Crystal, we'll live forever. . . and I'll be beautiful again._

The rest of the evening was consumed as skekEkt applied various lotions and other oils to his skin, meticulously brushed each of his fangs, and repaired some chipped polish on his talons.  Still, his thoughts kept returning to skekAyuk.  Finally he crawled into his ornate canopy bed and curled up in the middle after extinguishing the elegant lanterns that lit his room.

_Maybe **I** should apologize,_ he thought briefly before dismissing the idea.  _No. . . it was **his** fault!  I shouldn't apologize for **his** clumsiness. . . even if he keeps ignoring me._

Then, slowly a smile spread over skekEkt's narrow beak as an idea occurred to him: maybe the problem could be easily solved if he made sure skekAyuk _couldn't_ ignore him.  If skekEkt could get the Gourmand's attention, skekAyuk might apologize of his own free will, or at least start talking to him again.  SkekEkt closed his eyes resolutely and soon fell asleep, much more at ease.

\--

The next day dawned cloudy, to skekEkt's disappointment; without the suns' light, the Skeksis could not replenish their energies from the Crystal.  He had been counting on the energy boost to improve his appearance.

As it was, he devoted even more time than usual to dressing that morning.  His plan was to make himself look as elegant and striking as possible so that skekAyuk would realize just what a mistake he had made in doing anything to mar skekEkt's appearance.  The process of dressing, putting up his hair, and applying his makeup mixed from crushed gems and blood took so long, he missed breakfast entirely.  He did not emerge from his bed chamber until the noon meal, usually held after the Skeksis gathered around the Crystal to renew their energy, was approaching.

SkekEkt minced into the dining hall just as the slaves finished setting the banquet table, the first Skeksis to arrive.  He took his usual seat and yapped at the nearest slave for a glass of water.  The slave looked at him dully, then trudged off, presumably to obey the order.

A moment later, skekAyuk came stomping into the hall behind two more slaves who were carrying the special dishes used only by the Emperor.  He was snarling at them, something to the effect that they had better not position the plate slightly off-center like _last_ meal.  However, when he saw skekEkt, usually the last to turn up for any meal, he broke off with a start.  The slaves did not react to the break in the tirade; they merely laid out the Emperor's place setting then retreated.

"Sk-skekEkt--" the Gourmand stammered.

" _Hmmmmmmm_."  The all-too-familiar whine made both Skeksis turn and glare at the hall's main entrance in irritation.  SkekSil the Chamberlain was there eyeing them, bobbing his head up and down slightly.  SkekEkt scowled at the interruption in his plan, even if it was from one of their allies, more or less.

Apparently oblivious to  their annoyance, the Chamberlain crept to his own chair at the table.  "You missed a delicious breakfast this morning, skekEkt," he said, simpering but with a cunning sideways glance at the Ornamentalist.  "But I see the time was not wasted.  You look quite elegant today."

SkekEkt was flattered in spite of himself.  "I'm pleased that my efforts did not go unnoticed by _some_ ," he returned pointedly.  SkekAyuk harrumphed and stalked out of the room by the kitchen entrance.

"Hmmmmmm.  I hope I didn't interrupt anything," the Chamberlain murmured as he turned his wizened head to follow first the Gourmand's exit, then the entrance of a slave bringing skekEkt's water.

"Not at all."  SkekEkt took the goblet and glowered down into it, wishing skekAyuk were still there so he could chuck it at him.  "Not at all."

"Hmmmmmm," said the Chamberlain.

\--

SkekEkt was the first to leave the banquet hall after the meal, vowing that he was through with skekAyuk.  He went to his room to collect his sewing, then sat bristling on a window seat in one of the castle's highest parapets to finish his new undergarment.  The Emperor had also demanded a new, heavier outer robe to fight the chills he was increasingly suffering, which skekEkt intended to begin as soon as he finished his current project.

Other than his own bedchamber, this window seat was his favorite spot in the castle.  It afforded the most light for his work; while most Skeksis preferred dimly-lit rooms, the Ornamentalist believed that the colors with which he worked were only truly appreciated in the strong, natural light of the three suns.  In addition, the window offered a lovely view of the desolate landscape surrounding the castle.  SkekEkt looked out at it a moment before turning his gaze down to the cream-colored fabric held in his talons.  Even in the dimness of the cloudy day, he could appreciate its fineness.

He was nearly finished with the garment; in fact, all that remained was to complete the trimming of tatted lace he was adding to the hems.  As skekEkt began to sew, the needle flashing with surprisingly fluid movements in his talons, his frustrations melted away.  He knew the pleasure of creation, as did skekTek the Scientist with his experiments, skekUng the General with his Garthim, and skekAyuk the Gourmand with his meals.  There was a darkness, then, to creation that allowed them to appreciate it.

SkekEkt wasn't aware of this exactly; such philosophical concepts were beyond his very sensually-oriented mind.  Still, as he sewed he had the vague idea that his joy in creating something beautiful was antithetical to the nature of Skeksis.  Perhaps he should ask the Historian about it; skekOk understood such things.  Maybe there were other beautiful emotions skekEkt, the ultimate enthusiast of the beautiful, could experience. . . feelings he had thought forbidden to his kind.

"SkekEkt."  
  
The Ornamentalist jumped, inadvertently pricking himself on the finger with his needle as he was jarred from his thoughts.  He tilted his head upward, tossing his hair out of his eyes, to see skekAyuk standing next to him.  The Gourmand was gazing down at him awkwardly.

"Sk-skekAyuk," skekEkt stammered before regaining control of himself and turning back to his sewing as if he weren't the least bit interested in what the Gourmand had to say.  "What do you want?"

"Come down to the kitchen when you get through with that," skekAyuk rumbled uneasily.  "I. . . need to see you."

SkekEkt wondered what the Gourmand needed that couldn't be addressed right there, but he tried to hide his interest.  "All right, but it will be quite a while.  I'm very busy, and. . . ."  He trailed off when he realized that skekAyuk was already halfway down the hall, not having waited for an answer.

"Well, I never!" skekEkt harrumphed as he stitched at his garment with a vengeance.  He had half a mind not to visit the kitchen at all, but curiosity soon got the better of him.  He left his sewing in his bedchamber, then descended a long spiral of stairs to reach skekAyuk's domain, located on one of the lowest levels of the castle.

Even that soon after the noon meal, the large, drafty room was crawling with somnambulant Pod slaves already working on dinner.  The Gourmand hulked in the center of the kitchen growling orders at them in the vernacular, though he had not apparently become involved in the preparations yet; his stained, ragged chef's apron still hung from a peg in one wall.

SkekEkt cleared his throat, then screeched, "Gourmand!" in the haughtiest tone he could muster, hoping that his use of skekAyuk's title rather than his name would convey the message that he was still offended.  SkekAyuk started and turned towards him.

"Well, what did you want?" skekEkt snapped.  "I have things to do."

"I've got something for you," the Gourmand grumbled.  "Over here."  He gestured one hand towards the heavy wooden table in the center of the kitchen, then moved to the shelves that adorned one wall.  SkekEkt trudged over to the table as skekAyuk took down a basket from the top shelf, out of the reach of the Pod slaves.

"What is it?" skekEkt asked, curious in spite of himself as he craned his neck to see what it contained.  Gifts were practically unheard of among Skeksis, except of course where the Emperor was concerned.

SkekAyuk smirked slightly at the Ornamentalist's eagerness and dropped the basket on the table.  It was covered with a piece of cheesecloth, which the Gourmand drew back to reveal a single piece of fruit.

"One left," he said.  "The slaves found a tree of them days ago. . . just one tree."

"What is it?" skekEkt asked again.  The thing had a silly shape, narrow at the top and sloping into a much fatter shape at its bottom.  Like most natural things on Thra, its form was vaguely triangular.  "It doesn't look very nice."

SkekAyuk chuckled, to the Ornamentalist's irritation.  "It _tastes_ nice.  Best fruit I've ever eaten."

"Why haven't you served them at dinner then?" skekEkt snapped, still mistrustful of the Gourmand's motives.  "Or did you save them for the Emperor?"

SkekAyuk's laugh grew, and he leaned closer to snicker confidentially, "The Emperor?  Pah, I ate them myself."

The corner's of skekEkt's mouth twitched as he tried not to smile.  "They taste that good, and you're giving the last one to me?"

"Eat it before I change my mind."

SkekEkt picked up the odd fruit and slowly brought it to his beak, watching skekAyuk all the while.  The Gourmand's golden-brown eyes were glued to skekEkt's gloved hand and the fruit in it; they had a look of mixed hunger, regret, and anticipation in them.

_Either it really is that good, or else it's going to poison me_ , skekEkt thought as he bit into the fruit.  He winced, fully expecting bitterness or worse. . . but skekAyuk hadn't lied.  It _was_ delicious.

In fact, it was the best thing skekEkt had ever tasted: so sweet it almost made him dizzy.  After that first tentative bite, he inhaled the rest as quickly as he could, making quick snapping motions of his beak through the yielding, yellowish flesh.  Juice dripped down his beak and fingers, but he was too absorbed in the taste to notice, even when it soaked into his prized gloves.  As much as he tried to pretend to daintiness, he was still a Skeksis, as prey to sensual pleasures as the other nine.

SkekEkt stopped just short of eating the core.  As soon as skekAyuk saw that the Ornamentalist wasn't going to consume that too, he snatched it from skekEkt's hand and devoured it in one bite.  SkekAyuk licked his own fingertips roughly, then eyed the juice smeared on skekEkt's lower beak.

The Gourmand lunged forward ravenously and drew his tongue over skekEkt's jaw before the Ornamentalist realized what he was doing.  SkekEkt squawked in surprise as skekAyuk licked and sucked the sweet fluid from his skin, as if desperate that not a bit of the fruit should be wasted.  He felt skekAyuk's tongue flick into the side of his mouth for an instant, then the Gourmand withdrew, breathing heavily as he took a staggering step backward and looked up at skekEkt almost belligerently.  Oblivious, the Pod slaves continued to cook in the background.

_What **is** that fruit?_ skekEkt wondered dimly.  _What did it do to me?_   The heart that beat feebly inside his sunken chest was racing, and his whole body felt tense with a sensation he hadn't experienced in many hundreds of trine.

"Delightful," he finally managed to say, his already high-pitched voice cracking over the word.  "The fruit, I mean.  I d-do hope the slaves find more."

"I'll send them back to the tree tomorrow," skekAyuk replied huskily.  He turned away abruptly and took down the ragged apron, then tied it around his substantial waist.  "Now get out of here.  I've got work to do."  He spoke so harshly, skekEkt drew himself up, offended and preparing to start another fight.  Then skekAyuk cast him one more look before trudging to the stove.  It was the same look of hunger he had given the fruit.

SkekEkt drifted from the kitchen with the taste of the fruit lingering in his mouth.  He already wanted more of it.

_The slaves will find more,_ he tried to reassure himself as he climbed the stairs to his chamber.  _But will skekAyuk let me have any?_   Perhaps.  He'd been willing to give skekEkt the last one he had. . . if it were really the last, if he didn't have more hidden somewhere.  But that raised another question: _If he does have more, why did he practically eat this one out of my mouth?_

The Ornamentalist shut himself in his chamber and sank down on his bed with a sigh.  He picked up his sewing once more, but this time oblivion in his work did not come so easily.


	2. Chapter 2

Within a couple hours, skekEkt had finished his own new garment and selected the fabric for the Emperor's new outer robe: a rich, heavy damask the color of fresh blood.  He spread it out on his bed and loomed over it, nodding with satisfaction.  This, he decided, would be his most magnificent work yet.

Reluctantly, skekEkt folded the cloth and set it aside, then trudged off to the practice of the choirs of Pod slaves who were so carefully selected and taught to sing the chants of the Skeksis.  Normally skekEkt enjoyed leading the practices, but it was a time-consuming task that today would throw off his schedule.  The practice would fill the afternoon until dinner, so skekEkt would have to take his choice of fabric to the Emperor for approval, as well as take skekSo's measurements, after the meal.  The time that would take would cut considerably into skekEkt's nightly grooming ritual.

"Oh well," skekEkt squeaked as he minced down the hall.  "The Emperor comes first, of course."

The singing of the slaves consumed skekEkt's attention enough so that he thought about neither skekAyuk nor the marvelous fruit until he arrived at dinner that evening.  However, once he began to eat the dinner the Gourmand's slaves had prepared, he was reminded of how delicious the fruit had been-- nothing he tasted now could compare, even though the meal was superb.  He looked once at skekAyuk, but the Gourmand was only stuffing his face as usual.

After the Skeksis had finished eating, leaving  the slaves to clean up the horrendous mess left behind, skekEkt brought the damask he had selected to the Emperor in the throne room.  SkekSo looked over it as the other nine Skeksis watched, then he nodded his approval.

"Quite a good choice."  The Emperor arched an eyebrow at skekEkt.  "I suppose I'll have to undergo your tiresome measuring again."

"It won't take long," skekEkt assured him, already producing the hand-made measuring tape that had served him for nearly a century.  (Its predecessor had been ripped apart in a fit of rage by skekNa the Slave-Master, who also found the Ornamentalist's measurements tiresome.)

The Emperor sighed and heaved himself to his feet, lifting his gaunt arms.  "Why must we do this every time you make something for me?  Don't you keep records?"

"Hmmmmmmm, a brilliant idea!" skekSil piped up before skekEkt could have a chance to respond.  The Chamberlain was as always eager to suck up to the Emperor, which was probably the only reason skekSo tolerated him.

Not to be outdone, the Historian skekOk added, "I could start a new file for your measurements."

"I rather think that's _my_ domain," the Treasurer skekShod sniffed.  "I'm much more adept with numbers than _you_ are."

"That surprises me," hissed skekOk, "since I've noticed quite a few. . . _discrepancies_ in your numeration of our resources!"

SkekShod gave a squawk of indignation.  "Why you near-sighted, broken-spined--"

"Blathering shyster--"

" _Quiet!_ " roared the Emperor, then he broke down into a coughing fit so violent he was forced to sink back onto the throne.  The surrounding Skeksis peered at him in consternation, although when he glanced from one face to another, skekEkt thought that most of them looked more eager than concerned.  On the other hand he, who had no desire to ascend the throne, was actually worried about the Emperor's progressive illness-- not because he cared much for skekSo's health but because he might not be a favorite of the next Emperor as he was with this one.  His eyes fell on skekAyuk last of all.  The Gourmand too was watching the Emperor, but only with an expression of detached interest.

The Emperor's coughing finally ceased.  He breathed raggedly for a moment, then spat something vile to one side of the throne and stood once more on shaky legs.

"Finish the bloody measurements," he snarled at skekEkt.  The Ornamentalist nodded and quickly went about his work, recording each number on a piece of parchment.  He did indeed keep records of his own; lack of accounting was not the reason he had to measure the Emperor over and over.  Instead, the reason was the Emperor's constantly degenerating body.  Each time he ordered something from skekEkt, the Ornamentalist found him slightly smaller and more wizened than the last.  However he wasn't about to tell the Emperor _that_ , even for the sake of defending himself against accusations of carelessness.

When SkekEkt finished the measurements, he stepped back briskly.  "All done," he told skekSo with a deep bow.  "I will begin work on it right away."

"See that you do."  The Emperor collapsed back into the throne as skekEkt scooped up his fabric and retreated.  Back in his chamber, he put away the fabric and undressed; despite his promise, the robe could wait until the next day.

After his bath, skekEkt redressed in the new undergarment he had made for himself and stood preening before the mirror.  The soft fabric felt pleasant against his skin, and he was pleased with the way its folds covered and hid his bony, angular body.  When he was satisfied with admiring his work, he got into bed and tried to sleep.

However, without anything to distract him, skekEkt's thoughts immediately returned to the Gourmand.  SkekEkt tossed and turned in his canopied bed, his flailing twisting his silken sheets into knots.  Over and over he tasted the sugary flavor of the fruit; he could almost feel the texture of its flesh in his mouth. . . and the sensation of skekAyuk's tongue on his skin. 

"He _must_ have more," skekEkt hissed, sitting up in bed abruptly.  "He wouldn't give away the last of _any_ food he had."  He clambered out of bed again, determined to find skekAyuk and demand more fruit.  He didn't consider that he might only be looking for an excuse to see the Gourmand.

SkekEkt hesitated as he passed his mirror, where his reflection was barely visible in the now dimly lit room.  His new robe might look nice, but he was hardly properly dressed to go out wandering the castle, especially without any makeup or attention to his hair.  For once, though, he put his appearance second and only pulled the curlers out of his hair before leaving his chamber.

Knowing skekAyuk, he was likely either in his own bedchamber or in the kitchen eating.  SkekEkt decided to try his chamber first since it was closer.  He walked down the winding corridor that connected all the rooms on that level of the castle until he came to the large wooden door that belonged to skekAyuk.  SkekEkt hesitated at first, then he rapped his knuckles against the dark wood.

"What is it?" skekAyuk yelled from within.  SkekEkt jumped slightly, almost wishing he hadn't left his own room.

"Well?" the Gourmand shouted again.  "I'm not getting out of bed-- and skekUng, if that's you, I don't care _how_ hungry you are!"

SkekEkt pushed the door slightly ajar and poked his beak in.  SkekAyuk was sitting up in a large bed whose sheets and blankets were so wrinkled, it must not have been made in years.  Papers were spread out all around him.

The Gourmand blinked at skekEkt.  "You. . . ."

"You were expecting the General?" skekEkt asked peevishly as he stepped into the room and shut the door.  For some reason, the thought annoyed him greatly.

"Well, sometimes he comes here in the middle of the night demanding another meal if he can't find any slaves in the kitchen," skekAyuk shrugged.  He looked down at the wrinkled sheets of parchment scattered about him with some embarrassment, then began to scoop them up and smooth out the crumpled bed clothes.  "Uh. . . did you. . . need something?"

SkekEkt now really did wish he hadn't left his own room; he felt like a fool-- and as great a barbarian as the General-- for coming to skekAyuk's room.  "N-no, not if you're busy," he squeaked, backing towards the door.  "It can wait--"

"I'm not busy," interrupted skekAyuk.  "I was just working on next week's menu."  He held up the papers as evidence, then dropped them onto his cluttered nightstand.  "What is it?"

"The fruit," skekEkt blurted out.  The Gourmand looked up at him and narrowed his eyes slightly.

"What about it?"

"Isn't there any more?"

"You're as greedy as the Emperor," skekAyuk growled, his mood worse for some reason once he knew what skekEkt wanted.

SkekEkt stalked closer, trying to manage a snarl but ending up with a whine instead.  "You can't talk!  Greedy!  Hoarding food for yourself!"

"I gave you some!" skekAyuk snapped back.  "Not the others, just you."

"You gave me _one_!" screeched the Ornamentalist.  "Just enough to tease me!"

SkekAyuk rumbled furiously and leaned forward in bed.  " _I_ tease _you_?  After nine hundred trine, the tables are turned, then, hunh?"

They glared at each other, gaunt chests heaving.  SkekEkt had barely heard the Gourmand; he was too fixated on the fact that skekAyuk hadn't answered his question-- there might still be fruit he was holding back.  Then, slowly, the words sunk in.  _He only shared it with me. . . and. . . something about tables._

"Look," skekEkt finally said, trying to regulate his shaking, squeaking voice.  "If you give me more, I'll. .  . your apron, it's falling apart.  I'll make you a new one.  I'll start tomorrow."

"But the Emperor ordered a robe for himself--"

"The Emperor can wait."  SkekEkt took a mincing step closer to the bed.  "You gave me something you didn't give him."

SkekAyuk looked up at him doubtfully, then he sighed.  "There's one more-- really, just one more.  We'll. . . share it."  He gestured at the rumpled bed with a hand.  "Sit."

SkekEkt obeyed, facing skekAyuk as he arranged his new garment about his scrawny limbs.  He felt severely underdressed with only the single layer of clothing, and no jewelry or collar or gloves.  But skekAyuk didn't seem to have even noticed what he was wearing.  _Typical_ , skekEkt thought mournfully.

The Gourmand opened a drawer in his bedside table.  Nestled amongst various articles of wrinkled clothing-- skekEkt winced-- was another piece of the fruit.  "I put some here," he explained, "in case the slaves got to the stash in the kitchen somehow.  But this is the only one left."  He picked it up and turned to face skekEkt as he dug his claws into the fruit's sides, splitting it in two.  He shoved one dripping half at skekEkt, as if he wanted to get it out of his grasp before he changed his mind.

SkekEkt briefly wished he had brought his eating utensils, but as he bit into his half, he ceased to care.  SkekAyuk practically inhaled his, core and all, and was sucking his fingers clean before skekEkt had finished.  SkekEkt watched him, enthralled and slowly chewing.  SkekAyuk was everything skekEkt wasn't-- careless, slovenly, indiscriminate-- and yet. . . skekEkt couldn't stop watching the other Skeksis' mouth as it worked over his fingers.

The Ornamentalist bit off the last bit of fruit he could get without biting the core and swallowed it, then automatically drew his tongue over his fangs and the edge of his beak.  SkekAyuk's brown eyes fell on him and stayed there.  SkekEkt held out the core to him wordlessly, pinched between the talons of his thumb and forefinger.

SkekAyuk took it without moving his gaze, crammed it in his mouth, and swallowed it.  SkekEkt made himself look away from his companion, casting his eyes downward for lack of anywhere else to focus them.  They ended up resting on his own hands, making him conscious of the sticky juice covering his long fingers.  SkekEkt lifted his right hand to his mouth and daintily licked the fluid from his forefinger.

A low moan made his traitorous eyes return to skekAyuk.  The Gourmand was staring at skekEkt's thin hand as if he wanted to devour it just as he had the fruit.  SkekEkt pulled his hand from his mouth even as skekAyuk reached out one of his own, thicker hands towards him.  The Gourmand's fingers closed over skekEkt's slender wrist.

SkekEkt squeaked involuntarily; skekAyuk's touch had sent the same delicious tenseness through his body that he had felt earlier.  The Gourmand stared at him an instant, then repeated his earlier moan as he drew the Ornamentalist's hand upward and bent his head towards it.

His mouth engulfed skekEkt's fingers, apparently heedless of his long, painted talons.  His tongue curled over them swiftly, licking the juice from them in one deft motion, then he pulled that hand from his mouth and caught skekEkt's left hand instead.  He repeated the gesture but didn't let skekEkt go after he had licked off the juice; instead he held skekEkt's hand in his mouth and sucked hard on his fingers.

The sensation this caused was exquisite.  SkekAyuk's mouth felt almost unnaturally hot on skekEkt's skin, his tongue soft in a striking contrast to the sharp teeth skekEkt could feel grasping the base of his fingers.  SkekEkt whimpered repeatedly in a series of soft moans usually reserved for especially delicious morsels of food or a particularly soft piece of fabric.  SkekAyuk drew his teeth lightly up skekEkt's fingers when he finally removed the Ornamentalist's hand from his mouth, then he began licking and nipping at skekEkt's palm.

"SkekEkt. . . ." the Gourmand groaned.  SkekEkt raised his trembling right hand back to skekAyuk's mouth; the other Skeksis began to caress it just as eagerly.  Then skekEkt spotted a drop of juice glistening just below the right corner of skekAyuk's mouth.

He leaned forward and flicked his tongue over it, getting a tiny spark of sweetness from it.  SkekAyuk gasped and clutched his hands almost painfully in response.  SkekEkt found himself completely unable to pull away; instead he drew his tongue along skekAyuk's jaw, towards the tip of his blunt beak.  SkekAyuk pulled skekEkt's hands from his mouth and opened it slightly, then caught skekEkt's tongue in it.

"Mmpgh!" exclaimed skekEkt, the cry melting into a whimper as skekAyuk's tongue moved against his own.  SkekAyuk parted his beak farther, turning his head sideways so that he could drive his tongue deeper into skekEkt's mouth.  SkekAyuk let go of his hands, and after a moment, skekEkt felt the other's arms curl around his back, pulling skekEkt's body against his own bulk.

SkekEkt could taste the sweetness of the fruit in skekAyuk's mouth, and he savored it as he kissed the Gourmand as deeply as he could.  He wrapped his own bony arms around skekAyuk's broad back, digging his talons into the single layer of material separating them from his companion's skin.  SkekAyuk moaned into his mouth and tightened one arm's grip around him; his other hand dropped to rest on skekEkt's tail just below the hemline of his robe.

SkekEkt had never paid much attention to his tail before, but he was aware of every inch of it when skekAyuk began to slide his hand upward, under the fabric that covered it.  He stopped about halfway up, with his hand rather lewdly thrust up under the skirt of skekEkt's robe; as he continued to kiss the Ornamentalist, he rhythmically contracted his hand over skekEkt's tail.  Just an hour before, skekEkt would have been affronted at the thought of anyone groping his tail, but now he thought it was one of the most erotic sensations imaginable.

When SkekEkt pulled his head back to catch his breath, his head cleared enough to allow him to question what he was doing.  He had seen creatures kiss before, of course-- but only Gelflings and Podlings, never Skeksis.   _What even made us think of doing this?_ he wondered dimly.  _Why does it make me so happy?_

That thought was frightening: that acting like a silly little Gelfling made him even happier than he had been upon finishing his own new robe, beginning the Emperor's, or making any of his other creations.  Yet he still wished he had kissed skekAyuk trine ago; it was as if he had suddenly been shown a whole world of emotion of which he had been previously unaware.

"SkekEkt. . . ." skekAyuk murmured, gazing at him with the look of desire he had given him in the kitchen.   His hand crept a little farther up the Ornamentalist's tail.

SkekEkt suddenly felt terrified.  Skeksis weren't supposed to act like this. . . or to feel like this.  He wanted more than anything to curl up in skekAyuk's arms and go right on kissing him, yet he couldn't escape the feeling that it would be wrong-- not morally wrong, for Skeksis cared little for morals, but incorrect somehow, or even dangerous.

He pulled away from skekAyuk and scrabbled towards the end of the bed.  SkekAyuk gave him a stare that was both bemused and a little hurt.

"What--"

"I-I should go," skekEkt squeaked weakly.

" _Why_?" skekAyuk protested.  "SkekEkt--"

The Ornamentalist scrambled to his feet.  "I have to go," he repeated as he hurried to the door, even though most of him wanted to stay.

"You damned tease!" skekAyuk shouted after him.

"I'm. . . I'm sorry," skekEkt muttered as he escaped, possibly the first time a Skeksis had apologized to anyone save the Emperor.

"You're. . . what?" he heard skekAyuk exclaim, but he didn't stop to answer.


	3. Chapter 3

Needless to say, skekEkt slept badly that night.  Even when he did manage to fall asleep, it was only to awake again every few hours.  He finally gave up on getting any more rest near dawn, when the smallest of the three suns was just beginning to send its first rays in through his small window.

SkekEkt got out of bed to retrieve the materials for the Emperor's robe, hoping that work would distract him.  However, even when he tried to sew, his thoughts kept returning to skekAyuk; every time he thought about kissing the Gourmand, his chest would constrict with both fear and desire.  He wanted to return to skekAyuk's chamber, yet he didn't dare.  Then he remembered that he had promised to replace skekAyuk's chef's apron in exchange for more fruit.

"That's it!" he squeaked aloud, dropping the Emperor's material to one side and climbing off the bed again to scrabble under it for his stash of fabric.  He would have an excuse to see skekAyuk in private if he had a new garment to deliver.

SkekEkt decided on an ecru linen, coarser than what he would use for normal garments but intended to be sturdy.  If the condition of skekAyuk's current apron was any indication, it would need to be able to hold up to abuse.  After selecting the fabric, the Ornamentalist pulled out the sheaf of papers that constituted his records on skekAyuk.

SkekEkt had a file on each of the other Skeksis containing all manner of information such as their measurements, what colors best coordinated with their skin and eyes, and their preferences regarding design.  The Emperor's file was of course the largest, particularly since skekEkt was constantly having to update his measurements.  However, skekAyuk's was almost as big.  SkekEkt flipped past dozens of drawings he had made of various outfits he had invented for the Gourmand, on the chance that skekAyuk would someday request something new. . . which of course he, not caring for his appearance in the least, never had.  Behind the drawings were pages of sigils and symbols skekEkt had come up with to represent the Gourmand, followed by blobs of paint he had painstakingly mixed to exactly duplicate the color of skekAyuk's eyes and what little hair he had.

The Ornamentalist frowned slightly as he looked down at the warm brown and orange tones on the page.  How had he ended up investing so much time and energy in designing things for skekAyuk that the Gourmand would never use?  Finally he flipped over the page of colors to find his records of skekAyuk's measurements.  They were nearly a trine old, so skekEkt mentally added a couple units to the measurement for the Gourmand's waist.  SkekAyuk certainly didn't have the Emperor's problem.

After measuring the chosen fabric twice, skekEkt carefully cut it.  He possessed an innate ability to create clothing and other items without any sort of guide other than his measuring tape, and he used very few patterns.  He would have scoffed at the thought of using any sort of reference for making something as simple as a chef's apron.

He spent most of the rest of the day sewing, hardly aware of the passage of time or the fact that his normal daily activities-- dressing, eating, gathering with the others about the Crystal-- went undone.  As before, skekEkt felt something like joy as he watched the garment take shape between his talons.  It was much less ornate of course than what he was making for the Emperor, but in a way that led to more of a challenge-- he had the task of making something simple, beautiful.

The afternoon waxed and waned as skekEkt worked undisturbed.  It occurred to him once that no one missed him or noticed his absence from the dining hall or the Crystal, but he was too engrossed in his task to dwell on it.

Then, finally, there was a knock at the door which had remained closed all day.  SkekEkt jumped, jabbing his needle into one finger inadvertently.

"Oogh," he whimpered, sucking on the finger as he stood.  "Who is it?"

There was no answer.  Grumbling, skekEkt stood on stiff legs and moved woodenly to the door.  A glance at the long triple shadows outside the window told him that it was nearly dusk.  He had likely missed dinner.

When he opened the door, skekEkt found himself looking down at a single Pod slave clutching a basket in front of it.  

"What you want?" skekEkt snapped in the vernacular.  "Not time for water yet!"

The thing just stood there mutely, looking up at him with milky eyes that seemed to see very little.  Then, slowly it held the basket up and out to him.

"For me?"  SkekEkt jabbed a talon at himself to illustrate.  The slave didn't move, only continued to hold the basket up.  The Podling did not protest when skekEkt snatched the basket away.

"Who sent you?" skekEkt persisted, but the slave turned away and began to trudge down the hallway without any answer.  SkekEkt sighed and closed the door.

He knew who had sent the slave as soon as he looked in the basket it had carried.  Two pieces of fruit rested inside; apparently either the slaves had found more that day, or skekAyuk had lied again about not having any left.  Whatever the case, SkekEkt couldn't guess at skekAyuk's motive for sending it-- apology?  Concern that the Ornamentalist had missed every meal that day?

SkekEkt stood there looking at it as the suns sank lower in the sky and the greatest one dipped below the horizon.  He still had not moved to taste the fruit when a second  knock sounded on his door.

"Come in," he squeaked.  This time it was the water, as he had expected.  He stood silently as the slaves prepared his water and left, apparently not noticing or caring that he wasn't screeching at them as usual.  Only after they were gone and he had removed his new undergarment and gotten in the bath did he finally eat the fruit.

It tasted every bit as sweet as the day before.  He hadn't been aware of his hunger until he began to eat, but with each bite he felt it more acutely.  He also became conscious of the aching in his stiff fingers from wielding the needle all day.  His legs and back were tense from sitting in one position too long.  Somehow the perfectness of the food he ate made everything else seem worse by comparison.

But still, skekEkt ate both pieces ravenously.  When he was through, he licked the juice off his long fingers, then washed his beak while vividly remembering skekAyuk's mouth on it.

After he finished bathing, skekEkt got back in bed and continued to sew.  He finally completed the apron near midnight and held it up with immense satisfaction.  He had accented the light-colored fabric with simple dark olive green and rusty orange embroidery.  Had it been for anyone but skekAyuk, he would have decorated it much more elaborately simply out of habit, but he knew that the Gourmand would prefer functionality over decoration as far as his kitchen-wear was concerned.

SkekEkt folded the apron and set it aside, then collapsed amidst his silk sheets.  This night he slept easily.

\--

The next morning, skekEkt overslept from lack of rest the night before and the stress of working all day without resting.  When he finally dragged himself from bed, all three suns were shining brightly in his window, indicating that not only had he missed breakfast, noon was swiftly approaching.  As skekEkt put on layer after layer of his robes, he eyed the finished apron and wondered when he should give it to skekAyuk.  He certainly didn't want to do it in front of any of the other Skeksis, and he knew that the Gourmand would currently be engrossed in preparing lunch.  Finally he decided that he would seek out skekAyuk after the noon meal.

Even though it was not yet noon, skekEkt made his way to the chamber where the Crystal was held.  After lacking its replenishing energy for two days, he was eager to stand in its refracted light when the three suns reached their apex at midday.  The rejuvenating rays would do more to improve his appearance than any makeup could.

He thought he would be the first to reach the chamber, but when he entered he found the Scientist there before him.  SkekTek was limping along the spiral pathways inlaid into the floor, each loop bringing him closer to the Crystal.  However when he reached the closest point to it on his path, he turned and followed it back to where it joined the others then chose a different one-- one which had been unoccupied since skekUng's predecessor as General had met his demise.

"What are you doing?" skekEkt squeaked as he moved to his own designated spot.

SkekTek started, then glared at him over his shoulder as he dragged his prosthetic leg along his route.  "Nothing _you'd_ understand."  But apparently he wanted someone to talk to, for before skekEkt could think of a scathing enough reply, the Scientist went on, "I'm wondering if there is some way to concentrate the beams of the Crystal here, as I have done in my lab.  When it refracts the rays of the suns, half of its beams are wasted; they cross empty paths.  If I could somehow force those beams into the nine remaining ones, it would double their strength. . . ."

As he trailed off, skekEkt frowned.  He wasn't very good at math in the abstract, but things like angles and halves were integral to his natural skill as a designer.  "But half of them aren't empty.  Only eight. . . and there are ten of us."

"Yes, yes," skekTek muttered with a dismissive flap of the hand that he had salvaged when he had amputated his arm.  He had somehow attached it to the arm's synthetic replacement.  "Now there are ten of us.  Not for long though."

"What are you talking about?" skekEkt sniffed haughtily.

The Scientist sighed the sigh of the afflicted.  "Perhaps you're too caught up in your frills and ruffles to notice, but the Emperor is dying."

SkekEkt gawked at him-- not at the news that the Emperor was dying, but at the fact that skekTek had the nerve to say it, particularly to one of skekSil's own faction.  "You. . . shouldn't talk like that."

"What can he do to _me_?" skekTek shrugged with a bitter smile.  "I'm the only one who can extract the essence from the slaves-- he _needs_ me.  And besides, I have no pretensions to the throne, so he has nothing to fear from my honesty."  He stepped off of the path and tread straight towards the Ornamentalist, stopping only a few feet away.  "Go on and tell him I said it, you mincing ninny.  It won't make any difference."

SkekEkt drew himself up to his full height indignantly and fluffed out his robes.  "I didn't say I would _tell_ him."

"Hmph."  SkekTek frightened skekEkt a bit; the Scientist, with his mechanical limbs and eyepiece-- skekEkt wasn't sure if he had taken out his own eye along with his limbs, or if the piece were merely a monocle-- spent nearly all his time in his lab, and he seemed so far remote from skekEkt's day to day life in the court of the Emperor.  His intelligence was also formidable; while even the learned skekOk and skekShod oftentimes seemed foolish, skekTek never did.

SkekEkt had shrunk back from him at first, but then he straightened up as he thought about the knowledge skekTek possessed in his wizened head.  Maybe the Scientist could answer the questions that had occurred to him in the past few days.

"SkekTek," skekEkt murmured when the Scientist started to turn away.  SkekTek half-turned and looked at him suspiciously.  "Let me ask you something."

"What?" growled skekTek.

"Are you. . . happy?"

SkekTek raised the hairless brow over his uncovered eye.  "What kind of question is that?"

"When you invent things, does it make you happy? "

The Scientist rolled his eye and seemed to be about to say something dismissive, then he paused and looked at skekEkt more thoughtfully.  "Well. . . I suppose.  I hadn't thought of it that way before.  Why?"

"Making things pleases me.  I wondered if it was the same for all of us."

SkekTek shrugged.  "Perhaps."  He craned his neck forward toward skekEkt, appraising him.  "What else?"

The Ornamentalist jumped.  "Wh-what do you mean, 'what else'?"

"You want to ask me more than that.  I can tell by the expression on that gaudily painted face of yours."

"I. . . ."  SkekEkt was impressed and more than a little frightened at skekTek's astuteness.  "Do other things make you happy?"

" _What_ other things?"

"I-I don't know.  Just. . . things."  SkekEkt was beginning to wish that he had never embarked on the adventure of talking to skekTek.

"Hmm."  The Scientist looked him up and down.  "Not really.  Meals are pleasurable, and so is our time before the Crystal.  But they do not make me 'happy' as you say, not the way my research does."

"And. . . there is nothing else in your life?"

"No."  SkekTek glowered at him with his uncovered eye.  "There isn't.  Now tell me why you ask.  Consider it. . . _research_."

"I want to know how can we be happy," skekEkt blurted out.   "How can we feel the same things those horrid little Gelfling feel?  You've taken the essence from enough of them; don't you know?"

SkekTek shrugged.  "Different kind of happiness.  They like to make things because they enjoy creating something beautiful for others to share.  If we make things for others, it's to gain power over them.  I can speak my mind about the Emperor because he needs what I make.  You get to mince around and have free reign of the castle to measure things because we need what _you_ make.  And the Gourmand gets the greatest share of slaves at his disposal because  he uses them to make our food.  We all--"

He broke off and peered closely at skekEkt, who had looked down abruptly at the mention of the Gourmand.  Realizing he was being scrutinized, skekEkt quickly asked, "What about the other things that make the Gelfling happy? "

"All pleasurable things have two sides," skekTek hissed, "a light and a dark.  We feel the dark, and the. . . ones in the valley feel the light.  Gelfling feel both, as we once did before the last Conjunction."

"So. . . we can experience the same things they can?  Even. . . good things?"

SkekTek smirked as he turned and hobbled back to his own path in the floor.  "Nothing is wholly good.  Or wholly bad.  Even _them_. . . even us."

Before skekEkt could even begin to ponder this enigma, a commotion sounded from one entrance to the room; apparently the Chamberlain and the General had tried to enter at the same time which resulted in an altercation.  It ended with the General entering first amidst much noise and bluster, and the Chamberlain following with a series of _hmmmmmmmmm_ s.  The other Skeksis soon gathered with the Emperor limping in last.  SkekEkt resolutely looked at the Crystal when skekAyuk entered and refused to shift his gaze for some time.  He finally risked a glance at the Gourmand just before the suns reached their apex and sent their light down to the Crystal.  SkekAyuk was watching him with a look of mild concern-- or probably as much concern as he could muster for anything that wasn't food.

SkekEkt looked away again swiftly, his eyes falling on skekTek instead.  The Scientist too was watching him, but with a much different look.  SkekEkt couldn't decipher it at first, but he realized what it was as the suns shifted into position and the Crystal refracted their light to the waiting Skeksis.  SkekTek looked at him the way he looked at the animals he kept imprisoned in his laboratory.

\--

After the noon meal that day, skekEkt retrieved the apron from his bedchamber and went looking for skekAyuk.  As he trudged down the stairs to the kitchen, the yelling from within told him that he had found the Gourmand.  SkekEkt slowly pushed open the large swinging door that led into the kitchen and peered inside.  SkekAyuk was shouting at a group of three slaves stirring a large pot over a fire.  When he got no response, he reached into a net full of live Crawlies-- probably destined for that evening's dinner-- pulled a handful out, and pitched them at the slaves.  The slaves did not react, but skekEkt screeched as one dashed past him on its run for freedom.

SkekAyuk jumped at the sound of skekEkt's cry.  Rather embarrassed, skekEkt slunk into the room, grumbling.  "You shouldn't throw those things around.  They might. . . bite or something."

"Told you before, Crawlies don't bite," skekAyuk sighed.  He took a hesitant step towards skekEkt.  "You. . . all right?  You didn't come out of your room at all yesterday."

"I was working on something," skekEkt replied loftily.

"But you didn't eat all day!"  The idea was apparently inconceivable to the Gourmand.

"I ate what you sent me," skekEkt said more softly.

"Oh. . . yes.  The slaves found a whole grove of the trees-- five or six of them-- so there should be plenty of fruit for a while."

So that explained why skekAyuk had sent it to him willingly.  "I suppose you'll serve it at dinner then," skekEkt muttered.

"No, I rather think I'll save it all for you and me," chuckled skekAyuk.

"But. . . how much is there?  Won't it spoil before we can eat it all?"

"Probably.  But better that than have to share it, eh?"

That was true; the thought of savoring a food that none of the other Skeksis could have was delicious.  Still, something didn't quite make sense.  "But you'd be sharing it with _me_."

"That's different."  SkekAyuk didn't explain; instead he eyed the bundle skekEkt was carrying.  "What's that?"

"Oh. "  SkekEkt had forgotten all about the apron in the drama of the Crawly incident.  "Your apron-- I made it yesterday."

"Yesterday?  All in one day?" skekAyuk exclaimed as  skekEkt handed the folded garment to him.  "No wonder you didn't come out of your room.  I didn't expect you to--"  He broke off as he unfolded the apron and stared.  "SkekEkt-- you sewed all this in one day, for me?"

"Yes," skekEkt said, slightly puzzled.

SkekAyuk lowered the apron to look at the Ornamentalist over it.  "I. . . I can't wear this," he stuttered.

SkekEkt gawked at him.  "What?" he squeaked furiously.  "After I spent hours making it, you--"

"No, no, I mean. . . it's too. . . nice.  If I use it, it'll get food on it."

"You got food on the last one I made you!" skekEkt pointed out in exasperation, gesticulating at the ragged apron the Gourmand was wearing.

"Yes, but. . . that was different," skekAyuk said helplessly.  "I ordered that one.  This, you. . . just made for me."

"But I told you, it was because you gave me the fruit!"  SkekEkt threw his hands in the air out of frustration.  "You make less sense than the Scientist!"

"I didn't give you the fruit to get anything in exchange," the Gourmand answered.  "And that's not why you made this for me either, is it?"  He folded it over his arm and held it against his chest as if he were afraid skekEkt would take it back.

"O-of course it is!"  SkekEkt turned his beak up in the air indignantly.  "I don't know what _your_ reasons for giving me something were, but--"

SkekAyuk interrupted him again.  "The first time, it was because I didn't want to fight with you anymore.  Even if it was your fault."

" _My_ fault?" skekEkt screeched.  " _You_ spilled gravy on _me_."

"And _you_ overreacted, just like you always do."  SkekAyuk grinned at him suddenly, which had the strange effect of completely deflating skekEkt's temper.  "Knew you'd never admit it though, so I had to make up with you.  Just like I always do."

"Hmph."  SkekEkt folded his arms.  "If it's such trouble to you, then why do you bother?"

"I ask myself that a lot," said skekAyuk wryly.

SkekEkt frowned slightly and thought about the whole matter.  He didn't really understand it.  To his way of thinking, everything one did was done in expectation of something in exchange.  SkekAyuk had given him food in exchange for ending their quarrel-- that made sense.  Then he, skekEkt, had wanted more fruit, so he had offered to make skekAyuk a new apron in exchange.  That made sense too.  What didn't make sense was that apparently skekAyuk hadn't taken the offer seriously and had given him the fruit for nothing.  And he assumed that skekEkt had made the apron for nothing as well, and somehow, the Gourmand had found that bizarre behavior satisfactory.

"My head hurts," skekEkt muttered, rubbing his temples.

SkekAyuk sighed heavily.  "You've been working too hard.  Go get some rest."

"No, I'm going to figure this out."  The Ornamentalist let his hands fall to his sides as he decided to start over again from the beginning.  "Why don't you want to use the apron I made you?"

The Gourmand walked over to him and looked up at him determinedly.  "Because it's a gift.  From you."

"But--"

SkekAyuk reached up and clamped a hand over skekEkt's beak, silencing him.  "Never mind.  I'll wear it, all right?"  With his beak in the Gourmand's grip, skekEkt could only nod.  SkekAyuk finally let go, though he trailed one finger up the edge of skekEkt's beak before lowering his hand.

"SkekAyuk--"

"I've got a meal to cook," skekAyuk grumbled, turning away from him-- although he did begin removing his old apron to replace it with the new.  "And you'd better get to work on the Emperor's robe if you want to stay on his good side."

SkekEkt turned to leave, but he stopped before he reached the door.  _All pleasurable things have two sides,_ skekTek had said.  _We feel the dark. . . ._   He had said it like it was all right to be happy.

"SkekAyuk, may I. . . come to your chamber again tonight?" he asked, his high voice shaking slightly.  He kept his eyes lowered as he spoke, but when he didn't get a response, he raised his head and looked at skekAyuk fearfully.  The Gourmand was frozen in place with his own head down.

"You don't have to ask," skekAyuk finally muttered.  "Wear what you wore the other night."


	4. Chapter 4

SkekEkt somehow managed to work that afternoon; before and after the slaves' choir practice, he got most of the Emperor's robe basted together.  He brought it to skekSo  in the throne room to try on just before dinner.

The Chamberlain was the only other Skeksis in attendance on the Emperor when skekEkt entered the throne room.  Simpering, he aided skekEkt in placing the robe about skekSo's shoulders, over his other layers of clothing.

"A flawless fit as always, Ornamentalist," skekSo hissed approvingly.  "I suppose your measurements are effective, however tiresome they may be.  You may continue your work on it."

"Yes, my Emperor."  SkekEkt bowed profusely, sweeping the ground with the trailing chiffon of his own garments.

" _Hmmmmm_ , I am glad to see you about," skekSil interjected to skekEkt when the Emperor did not speak again.  "Since you were in your room all day yesterday, I feared you were ill."

"I have been devoting myself to our Emperor's new robe," skekEkt lied glibly.  "But I am grateful that you're so concerned with my health."

"Not I alone," skekSil said in a slightly lower tone.  "The Gourmand asked me several times if I had seen you."

"He. . . did?"  SkekEkt tried not to squeak as he spoke the words.

" _Hmmmmm_ , yes.  He was quite. . . worried."

Acutely aware of the appraising looks he was getting from both the Chamberlain and the Emperor, skekEkt replied somewhat haughtily, "He had no reason to be.  I am quite well.  If you'll excuse me, I'd like to return the Emperor's new garment to my chamber before dinner."

As the Ornamentalist swished out of the room, trailing his chiffon behind him, the Emperor made a disdainful noise.  "He's behaving oddly lately.    If I didn't know better, I'd believe he was plotting something."

SkekSil looked at the Emperor carefully.  SkekSo had always been paranoid that one of the others would attempt to overthrow him, but his suspicions had become more and more acute lately.  Not that they were unfounded-- as that old hag of a seer, Aughra, was fond of saying, just because you were paranoid didn't mean they weren't out to get you.  Still, for the Emperor to suspect that skekEkt had any ambition to the throne in his fluff-filled head was ridiculous.

"My liege, he would be the _last_ to plot anything against you, _hmmmmm_.  He's far too obsessed with himself to have any thought of seizing power.  And besides, he idolizes you-- imagine him spending all day working on your clothing!"

"Hmph.  You know as well as I do, that wasn't what he was doing."  SkekSo settled himself deeper into his throne, clutching its arm rests in his withered hands and looking around the throne room with satisfaction.  "But you're right about one thing-- he wouldn't care to be Emperor.  He's too. . . perverse."

 _Perverse_ , skekSil thought.  _Hmmmmm_.  A good word for the Ornamentalist.  A word that made the Chamberlain wonder just what skekEkt _had_ been doing all alone in his room for an entire day. . . and why his pointy, painted face had lit up when skekSil told him that the Gourmand was concerned for him.

"And Chamberlain," the Emperor rasped, interrupting skekSil's musings.  "You said the Ornamentalist is the last to plot against me.  So he is less likely to revolt than, say. . . yourself?"  He spoke with a teasing tone, but there was nothing playful about the expression in the eye he cast in skekSil's direction.

"A figure of speech only, my Emperor," skekSil assured him.  " _Hmmmmm_."

\--

SkekEkt ate dinner as fast as he could without inhaling it the way the other Skeksis did, then returned to his chamber only to pace impatiently as he waited for the slaves to bring his bath water.  He had wanted to have time to reapply his makeup after bathing and before returning to skekAyuk's chamber, but the slaves were late once more.

When they finally came with the water, skekEkt screeched at them to hurry, to no real effect; they seemed to take longer than ever in preparing his bath.  After what felt like an eternity, the slaves withdrew, and skekEkt pulled off his clothes rapidly and climbed into the basin.

SkekEkt performed his grooming ritual as quickly as possible and dressed in the new garment he had worn to skekAyuk's room before.  Peering at himself in the mirror, he tried to decide how to best make himself look beautiful without the benefit of his normal layers of clothes.  He started by tying up his hair with its usual ribbon, then he spent the next hour deciding what jewelry to wear.  He had just fastened on his dangling earring when he realized how much time had already passed.

 _If I don't go now, he'll think I'm not coming-- or else I'll lose my nerve entirely,_ skekEkt thought miserably, giving his reflection one last unsatisfied glance.  Once again he set off for skekAyuk's chamber with no makeup.

He stood outside skekAyuk's door for a moment, wondering if he should even be there at all.  SkekTek's words had ceased to reassure him-- the Scientist surely couldn't have known that by "happiness," skekEkt meant "kissing another Skeksis". . . much less, simply being with another Skeksis.  Lust might have its dark side, yes. . . but affection?  How could there be anything like that left in him-- shouldn't urUtt, the one called the Weaver who dwelled in the valley of the urRu, have taken it all?

SkekEkt found himself leaning his forehead against skekAyuk's door, his left palm pressed to its surface and his long fingers splayed against the wood.  He had not thought of urUtt in many, many trine, and now it was only to wonder if the Weaver loved urAmaj the Cook.  He knew that every time he pricked his own fingers upon his needle, urUtt felt it just as skekEkt sometimes felt the sting from an invisible spindle-- but he didn't know if they were twinned in emotion as well as sensation.  That was something skekTek couldn't tell him, because none of the Skeksis wanted to find out.  It was better not to know.

SkekEkt drew back and rapped his fist against the door, deciding to go through with it at whatever the cost.  Let the urRu worry about whether things were right or not.

SkekAyuk opened the door almost immediately, instead of just yelling for skekEkt to come in as before.  "I thought you weren't coming," he grumbled as he gazed up at the Ornamentalist.

"I. . . was getting dressed," skekEkt sniffed.  SkekAyuk moved aside for him to enter the room, then the Gourmand shut the door behind him.  He apparently didn't value his privacy as much as skekEkt did, for there were no locks on the door.

"You didn't have to do all that," skekAyuk said with a slight smirk.  "I just wanted you to wear the robe, that's all."

"Why?"  SkekEkt spread his hands over his stomach, smoothing the fabric.  "I sleep in this-- it's not--"

"You look beautiful in it."

SkekEkt gaped at him.  He of course found himself quite attractive when properly made up, but he had never expected another Skeksis to say so. . . and certainly not to say that he looked beautiful in his undergarments.

"But. . . I didn't even put on any makeup."

"I don't care."  SkekAyuk went over to his bed-- still unmade-- and sat down near the head.  The bed gave an affronted creak under his weight.  "You're beautiful anyway."  Before skekEkt could respond, the Gourmand went on, "How's the Emperor's robe coming?"

"Erm, fine, fine."  SkekEkt perched nervously on the foot end of the bed.  "He says it's a perfect fit so far.  The Chamberlain seemed to approve as well."

"The Chamberlain, hunh?"  SkekAyuk raised a bushy eyebrow.

"Yes, he was in the throne room as well.  He seemed rather worried about my health."

"Hmph," skekAyuk growled.  "What business is it of his?"

Slightly taken aback, skekEkt murmured, "Well, we _are_ aligned with him--"

"Doesn't matter.  The Emperor's aligned with us too, but _he_ doesn't ogle you all the time.  SkekSil's been far too concerned with you lately."

"And what business is _that_ of _yours_?" skekEkt asked in amazement.

"You're _mine_ ," skekAyuk snarled abruptly, leaning forward and bracing himself on his hands.  "Not his."

SkekEkt's heart pounded almost painfully in his thin chest.  "Yours," he murmured faintly.

SkekAyuk reached out to snatch one of skekEkt's hands up in his.  "I want you," he hissed, pulling on the Ornamentalist's hand to draw him forward.

SkekEkt squeaked and coiled his long arm around skekAyuk's neck as the Gourmand pulled him closer.  SkekEkt had given up on resisting; if the Scientist were right and nothing was wholly good or wholly bad, then skekEkt could have what he wanted.

The Gourmand parted his blunt beak, all but wedging its tip between skekEkt's jaws to force  his mouth open.  As soon as skekEkt opened his beak, skekAyuk thrust his tongue in his mouth and kissed him deeply.  SkekEkt almost collapsed against the Gourmand in bliss as skekAyuk probed his mouth.  He drew his talons lightly down skekAyuk's broad back over the coarse material of his robe.

"Mmm," skekAyuk moaned into his mouth, dropping one hand down to rest on skekEkt's tail.  This time skekEkt didn't try to pull away when the Gourmand's hand stroked his tail roughly.  Instead, skekEkt curled his tail comfortably against skekAyuk's thigh.

SkekAyuk finally pulled his beak away from skekEkt's to catch his breath, then he began caressing the Ornamentalist's neck ardently as he slid his hand farther up skekEkt's tail.  SkekEkt clung to him and tilted his head back with pleasure at the feeling of skekAyuk's mouth on his skin.

"S-skekAyuk," he whimpered, squirming slightly.  "That feels so good. . . ."

"Mmpgh," was the only reply he got as skekAyuk wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed their bodies together.  "You bloody tease," the Gourmand rasped after a moment, "y ou're not getting away from me this time."

SkekEkt bent his own head to nuzzle at skekAyuk's shoulder, sliding his beak beneath the fabric of the Gourmand's robe to kiss his skin.  He had no intention of trying to escape.

\--

Near midnight, skekSil the Chamberlain was skulking along the cavernous hallways of the castle, _hmmmmm_ ing to himself thoughtfully.  He often had trouble sleeping and that evening had been no exception; as usual, he was passing the time by searching for something interesting-- or profitable-- to observe.  Tonight his mind kept returning to the Ornamentalist and his odd behavior of late.  What was he up to-- and how was the Gourmand involved?

SkekSil turned his shuffling steps toward skekEkt's chamber.  Perhaps a chat with the Ornamentalist would clear some things up, or else provide the Chamberlain with some ammunition if necessary.  He was rather jealous of the Emperor's fondness for, or at least tolerance of, the Ornamentalist. . . but although he wanted to be the Emperor's favorite, he also rather wanted to be skekEkt's favorite as well.  It would be pleasant to get beautiful clothing on the level of the robes skekEkt was making for the Emperor, or for that matter the new apron he had seen the Gourmand wearing when he led in the procession of slaves bearing dinner.  Maybe skekSil could learn something from skekEkt that would either alienate the Ornamentalist from the Emperor. . . or bring him closer to the Chamberlain.

The Chamberlain got no response when he knocked lightly at skekEkt's closed door.  It was quite possible that skekEkt was asleep, but skekSil had him pegged as a light sleeper so he knocked more loudly.  When that produced no results, he tried the door.  Somewhat to his surprise, it gave way immediately.  SkekSil stepped into the room and looked around, only to find it empty.

The Chamberlain frowned with a _hmmmmm_.  Where could the Ornamentalist be at this late hour?  Almost immediately, it occurred to him to check the Gourmand's chamber.  SkekSil slunk out of the room and started for skekAyuk's.

All was quiet as he neared the heavy doors, and skekSil made every effort not to break the silence with his movements.  Instead of knocking, he pushed open the door stealthily, then poked his head inside.  The room was dark except for a small flickering lantern, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light.  As they did, he was able to make out the bulky shape of skekAyuk in bed. . . and an instant later, the Chamberlain saw another familiar form beside him.

So they were sleeping together, like a couple of sentimental Gelfling.  Nothing much surprised skekSil anymore, but that was enough to make even his fanged jaw drop.  Only for a moment, though-- he quickly shut his beak and withdrew from the room as silently as he had entered it, closing the door behind him.

The Chamberlain walked slowly back down the hall, thinking.  Apparently he had no chance of being favored by skekEkt; obviously skekAyuk had won that position.  Still, skekSil wasn't very disappointed.  The new knowledge he had just gained more than made up for any loss.  Now there was just the matter of using to his advantage the fact that the Ornamentalist and the Gourmand were lovers.

" _Hmmmmm_ ," murmured the Chamberlain as he made his way back to his room to sleep.

\--

The End

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Blood and Crystal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1385956) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account)




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